


Ubi Concordia, Ibi Victoria

by Nyanshadowforce



Category: Fallout - Fandom, Fallout 4, MCSM, Minecraft: Story Mode - Fandom
Genre: F/F, Fallout AU, Its edgy but im having fun with it okay, Mcsm fallout Au, More tags are to be added as the fic continues, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2017-10-27
Packaged: 2019-01-16 16:50:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12346689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyanshadowforce/pseuds/Nyanshadowforce
Summary: [FIC ON HIATUS]Jesse's yearning for adventure is answered, but at what cost?Although freed from the shackles of a marriage she didn't want, Jesse finds herself with nothing but a weapon and her wits as she emerges into a world looking nothing like her own. With Gil murdered in cold blood, Her adopted son kidnapped, and every monster in the commonwealth at her heels, she embarks on a journey to unite her broken world, and more importantly, find her son.And she's going to need a lot of help to do it.





	1. Bright First Impressions

**Author's Note:**

> Originally, this first chapter was just a ficlet on Tumblr, but I decided to expand on it and attempt a chaptered fic for this au I've had in mind for a while. 
> 
> It may not be the best of quality, but I'm still learning and I hope this can be enjoyed regardless! Chapter 2 is already being edited and should be up tomorrow.

The rain, heavy and merciless, pounded down onto the once-parched earth and pooled into ditches in the side of the road. Little life moved underneath the curtain of silver. Radroaches scuttled for safety underneath ancient rusted cars, and groups of them huddled together in the metal skeletons, wings twitching, all silent.

Two mirelurks burrowed into the thick mud in a growing pond nearby. Huddled close like the roaches, their heads barely poked out from the mud and their shells. The water over the wet earth rippled in the rain as they watched the ghost towns that lay ahead of them. To watch for prey, or simply to gaze at the nearby buildings, their motifs were unclear as the hanging mist.

Prominent movement, at least, piqued the soaked landscape. A mud-caked boot splashed into a puddle on the road, further soaking the cat that accompanied the girl.

“Sorry!”

The feline meowed in response, tiny voice straining to be heard over the noise of the rain.

“I’ll clean you up when we find somewhere to stop, just-” Jesse’s boot hitched on a stone in the road. She stumbled, pausing to breathe and adjust herself. “Let’s just keep going. We’ll stop at the highway.”

Jesse’s vision blurred and distorted through the visors of the assault mask she wore, but the overhang of the highway was unmistakable. A mere shell of what it once was, the concrete and metal road hung twisted, rusted and drooping dangerously to the ground. Still, it didn’t look like it was going to collapse anytime soon, and would provide suitable shelter.

When the pair at last reached the overhang, they stood rigid and freezing. Jesse trudged to the metal pillar supporting the structure and leaned against it. That cat at her heels backed up as Jesse crumpled down, her breath shaking in exhaustion. Her legs pulled up, and she dug her head into her knees as the burning In her muscles became apparent. Her skin began to sting as well, rubbed the wrong way by wet cloth and leather.

The cat was no better. Calico patterned fur hung from his frame, and his white tail flicked with irritation. Still, he made a small mew of concern for Jesse and attempted to climb into Jesse’s lap.

When she raised her head, the cat nuzzled his mussed whiskers into the nozzle of her gas mask, as if to say, _Breathe_

“Mhmm, sorry Winslow.”

Jesse reached up and stroked him with trembling fingers before undoing the straps of her hood. The wet cloth ruffled her hair as it was taken off, but it wasn’t as if her hair wasn’t already a tangled mess from the day of traveling.

 _And there are only so many more to come_. 

They’d departed for a place called Beacon City, An apparent rag-tag civilization build in the heart of the Boston ruins, several hours before on a tip from Gabriel. Get to the green jewel, get supplies, get help. It sounded simple, yet the journey had already been anything but that. Gabriel was right. Her home was now anything but domestic.

“Oh, look at you, you’re a mess…” Winslow settled in her lap as Jesse stretched. Once her muscles had relaxed enough, she wriggled from the straps of the backpack she wore, careful not to disturb her soaked friend.

“I don’t know if I have any dry rags,” Jesse rummaged through the pack at her side “the bag got pretty wet.”

The cat meowed again in response, not in pleasure nor distaste. Without looking, She stroked him again, his fur smoothed down in the repeating motion. His shaggy tail rose in pleasure, and with the provided treatment, he nuzzled against the pipboy on Jesse’s wrist, tuning one of the buttons and activating the radio.

Jesse flinched at the sudden static, immediately looking for the source of the noise until she’d realized it was her own tool that the cat had managed to activate. Her alarmed expression relaxed. “Be careful with that, bud.” Her voice was an exhausted sigh. “You know how jumpy I am.”

He merely glanced at her before returning his attention to the radio. His eyes grew wide, and ears perked high and stiff with interest. His neck craned to look intensely at the device.

The noise of the radio was a drone, static changing from high to low intensities with every passing second. It was viable that her feline friend was hearing something she couldn’t in the mist of noise. Her brows furrowed at the transmitter. The volume was carefully tuned up with fingers coated in dried mud.

Jesse rose from her place, still staring at the device as she held her arm higher in the air. Winslow’s wide eyes followed the device, and he chirped in frustration as it was torn further from his reach. The static was no different from before. It cut in and out, loud and indistinguishable. She carefully adjusted the buttons of the pipboy once more and raised far as she could for some sort of signal. Whatever the cat was hearing, it had to be here.

With a step forward came a ghost of a voice breaching the white noise. Behind the recording was, to Jesse’s unexpectancy, the dull but distinguishable pop of gunshots and the metallic drones of what Jesse recognised of lazer rifles.

She softly gasped at the newfound noise. More steps were taken with Cat following optimistically behind until Jesse was nearly stepping back into the rain. The noises became the clearest they’d been since picking up the signal from her new position. Labored breathing was heard on the other line, then, finally, a voice.

“Th- this is sc-ibe Herzog of of Reco–ssance Squad Gladius!” A desperate, shaking voice broke through the clearing signal. The speaker sounded young, not older than seventeen. “-To any units in transmission range. Authorization Arx, Ferrum. Nine. Five.” The transition paused again.

Jesse’s heart leaped as she realized- It was a military signal. A recent one.

More shots then rang out on the other line. “Our unit has sustained heavy casualties, we’re running low on supplies-” a crash sounded on the recording. Herzog cursed before returning to the transmission. “We’re requesting support or evac from our position at Cambridge Police Station. I repeat-” the boy’s voice grew increasingly desperate. “-Requesting support or evac from Cambridge Police Station!- oh fuck, Paladin! Get the-” the signal cut off abruptly. White noise returned to blend with the rain.

Jesse’s face was stone as she slowly lowered the pipboy and carefully shut off the radio. Winslow’s tail curled at the tip, awaiting a reaction from his friend.

“That was a military signal.” She said flatly. “Those are the exact kind of people we’re looking for, and they could end up dying before they could even consider helping us…” Jesse began to pace, gesturing her hand in front of her as she walked.

Before she could continue, Cat stood up and daintily walked to her bag, where his tail remained erect and crooked as he meowed at her.

Jesse only stared In confusion. Determined to get his point across, he then stood on his hind legs, nuzzling against the hilt of the 10mm pistol that stuck from the pack’s furthermost pocket. He meowed again.

Jesse’s eyes narrowed as the message clicked. She approached the pack, the cat moving out of the way as she knelt down, and carefully retrieved the weapon where it stuck out from the zipper. She felt the weight in her hands, remembered the smoke and heat it generated when fired. Her fingers ran over the top of the barrel, and when she’d reached the end, the weapon was reloaded in a tight grip.

After the bombs, the military had been beyond strenuous, and she hadn’t needed to experience nuclear winter to know that. They weren’t going to help anyone that didn’t prove to be helpful themselves.

“I know Cambridge. It’s not far from here.” Jesse stood up, tone serious. “Come on. Looks like we’re making a pit stop.”

[Page break]

It didn’t take more than a mile before the firefight was in earshot. From behind the crumbling buildings, gunshots and desperately yelled commands rang out and echoed on stone walls and rubble, loud enough to bypass the rumbles of thunder in the clouded dusk sky.

Jesse skidded to a stop at the edge of Cambridge, aching and panting. Old murals and ads that she’d once passed every morning were now as faded and dull as the sun bleached brick they’d been painted on. The bricks were stripped a pale orange by centuries of sunlight, and the windows of the building had long since shattered.

Before Jesse could make another move, the cat darted for an open alleyway, stopping at the entrance and puffing out in alarm. He turned to Jesse before looking down the path once more and hissing violently

“I’m coming!” Jesse looked down at her belt, reaching to undo the holster of her pistol. She hesitated when the chestnut handle of the weapon reached her grip

 _When it comes to the creatures out here, don’t think, shoot._ she remembered Gabriel’s advice. _people are one thing, but the rest of the wasteland shows little mercy_

She shook her head before grabbing the weapon and leaned forward in a sprint down the alley, her feline companion running ahead of her, and braced herself for the fight that was bound to come.

The courtyard was hell.

Hissing from the rain, gasoline fires burned in garbage cans at a barricade in the front of the courtyard assortment. The entrance of the barricade had been broken, ripped open from the outside with cracked wood leaning in and splintered planks littering the ground in front of it. At the steps of the police station, bloodied soldiers clad in black-and-red garments held themselves at guard posts laced with barbed wire, hanging long rifles from the fronts of the small enclosements. Their eyes were narrowed in exhausted anger as they aimed for the break the barricade.

“Reload your weapons! The ferals are coming fast- fuck, I’ve never seen a pack like this -take aim!”

Jesse, following orders from an unseen commander, scuttled into position beside one of the frontal guard posts. She raised her weapon for the opening, kneeling and balancing herself. Like one of the other strange soldiers. She was given a side-glare by the man occupying the guard post before focusing all attention on the entrance once more.

“Don’t know what kind of dumbass you are, coming here.” The man next to her mumbled. “But we need all the help we can get. Rain ain’t the only storm on our hands here.”

Jesse didn’t respond. Tension hung in the air, thick like humidity, clogging lungs. Her eyes began to stray to the ground to witness what she hadn’t before; bloodied bodies, nearly all of them discolored and with ragged clothes, littered the constricted concrete battlefield.

_This isn’t right. Those can’t be human_

“Fire!” The commanding voice from above echoed into Cambridge. Jesse’s head snapped forward from the startling command, and her fingers instinctively pulled down on the trigger.

At the entrance, another body collapsed to the ground. Jesse hadn’t even looked, hadn’t even aimed, but she knew it was her work.

She didn’t have time to regret her kill before the entrance of the barricade flooded with figures, and the Cambridge Police Station exploded in gunfire. Not monsters or men, the disfigured creatures sprinted into the courtyard, stumbling over the bodies of their fallen kin and savagely snarling. When the soldiers opened fire, the monsters faced the onslaught. They didn’t seem to feel pain. All that lay in their glowing, bomb-scarred eyes was hunger.

Jesse couldn’t move- she couldn’t understand. Only gawk with fearful eyes. They looked like men, at the same time, weren’t. They were monsters, ones with an apparent hunger for the living. What the soldier above had called them. Feral.

The man beside her slapped her shoulder, lurching her to one side. “Shoot, you idiot!” He opened fire again. “Or we’re all gonna die!”

 _Just focus. Shoot!_ She told herself. Jesse joined the line of fire at last, unloading the magazine on the waves of weathered beasts. Ferals began to fall to their bullets and the lead rain of a minigun above, but even then, the waves of them grew eerily closer, some uncaring of the bullets firing into them.

Panic began to surge through her. There wasn’t enough fire power to stop them from hitting the guard posts.

One of the crazed ferals leaped from the courtyard and into the soldier at Jesse’s side with a snarl. It’s rotting teeth tore into the fabric, and then the flesh, of the man’s shoulder. He yelled in pain, then jammed the tip of his rifle into the feral’s stomach before firing. The shot burned through the living corpse. It fell limp as its midsection was decentigrated

“Fall back!” He choked.

A scream escaped Jesse as she narrowly dodged another leaping mutant, the creature’s head ramming into the concrete. Tripping over herself, she scrambled for the door, zigzagging as the spitting ferals lunged at her heels. Raw fear and panic drove her further. 

Other soldiers, limping or terrified, ran for the door as well. In front of Jesse another beast charged for an armored woman and pinned her against the wall with a sick shriek. The woman kicked at the rotting beast, but it slashed and swiped for her stubbornly.

“Cornelison!” The voice from above called out again. This time it was made in dread.

The shambling mob was only a stride away now. Jesse raised her pistol once more and slammed down on the trigger in a final retaliation.

It clicked lifelessly. No more bullets.

They were too close, she’d never make it to the door- Winslow was smart enough to run from danger, he’d be safe -Jesse lowered the weapon. This was it.

Suddenly, from the top of the police station came a fierce cry. Something unlike Jesse had heard before, terrifying and vigorating. It had been enough to make a few members of the hoard stop to crane their disfigured necks to the sky.

Jesse couldn’t look with them before hulking metal thunder slammed into the pavement in front of her. The bonfires shivered from the impact wave, and the figures on the ground had staggered or fallen in the tremor, including Jesse. Still, it didn’t stop her from looking. The newcomer was clad in what Jesse could identify as military-grade power armor, kneeling into the ground where they’d landed, and rose to effectively wall themselves between the decayed beasts and the soldiers fleeing for the door. The soldier, a woman, looked back at all of them briefly- then looked at Jesse -then returned her burning eyes to their enemy. When the woman heaved her minigun from the pavement, Jesse noticed there was a small crater in the pavement where she had landed.

Jesse was frozen watching the spectacle before her. When one of the ferals sprinted for the soldier, she did not fire, but swung the neck of the minigun into her attacker. Its spine snapped from the blow, and its body slammed into two standing others. The soldier turned to open fire into the crowd. Handfuls of the monsters dropped wherever the weapon faced, each one falling with bullets completely ripping through them or tearing off limbs. The neck of the artillery slowed its spin in a forced stop, glowing bright red and steaming like the other courtyard fires.

Growling in frustration, the soldier dropped the minigun altogether. The feral that attempted to lunge for her was not met with lead bullets, but metal fists ramming upward into its chin. Its neck snapped, and the rest of the body fell limply to the ground.

As the soldier threw herself deeper into the hoard, the ferals enclosed around her. Shuffling around her like a hungry pack of wild dogs, they closed in, growling and snarling. Those who lunged were met with rage-filled cries and swinging fists. But even then, the pack began to jostle less and less. No one was invincible, and it was evident that the soldier was becoming overwhelmed.

Through the twisting bodies, Jesse could see that one of the creatures had latched onto the soldier’s back, hanging onto the metal rims of her armor and refusing to be shaken off. This one was unlike the others; Its eye sockets were empty craters, blackened and vacant of any life. Its skin was darkened, knarled and twisted with skinny, crooked limbs rotted by time. Its entire body pulsed in a green glow, a guiding light for the ferals around it, and that lit the terror in the soldier’s eyes as her head turned to face it.

“Paladin!”

Jesse woke from her trance in a flash and another rumble of thunder. She gasped, dropping her jammed pistol and feeling at her belt for something, _anything_.

Her eyes met with a combat knife jammed into the guard post where another soldier had stood before. Without thinking, she pulled it from the sodden maple and started for the thinning hoard. As She shoved past the shambling beasts, the monsters payed little attention but a swipe and growl for her back. She was too quick to be proper prey.

But in the middle of the hoard, things were different. She dodged left, right, anything to avoid the blackened and hardened claws. She was now in front of the struggling Paladin, at the heart. The monster on her back didn’t care to look at Jesse as it reared back, preparing for a fatal bite to the soldier’s nape.

Time slowed in that moment. The hoard moved in waves around her as Jesse tightened the grip on her knife with both hands, holding it like a frightened child. Her breath finally adjusted. Her eyes narrowed on the glowing feral.

_Don’t think. Fight._

Jesse lifted the knife above her head, lunging with a shriek for the Monster’s throat. It may not have been a battle cry, but it was all Jesse could muster. Even with her eyes shut tight, she felt the blade sink into the rotting skin of the creature’s throat. Its snarl was reduced to a disgusting gurgle. Jesse tore downward on the wound, bright liquid spilling out from the puncture and onto her hands. She screamed from the burning pain, but did not let go.

The glowing monstrosity lost its grip on the soldier as Jesse pushed the blade deeper. She collapsed as it did, falling on top of it as they hit the wet pavement that reflected light at the creature’s presence. It struggled underneath her, spitting and gurgling while more foul waste poured from the gash in its throat. A fury rising inside her, she tore the blade from the Monster’s throat and rebuaried it in its naval cavity.

The stinging all over her body was ignored in the heat of battle. Unsatisfied with the still-moving beast, she retrieved her blade and repeated the attack. In the throat, the eye sockets, the heart. Glowing blood was pulled into the air with each ripping motion.

“Just fucking die!” She shrieked into the wind.

When the monster finally lay still, Jesse continued to sit on its body, heaving. With an upward tilt of her head, she realized that the courtyard- for the first time in that night -was silent. All except for the patterning of rain and the crackling of flames at the barricades. The rest of the hoard lay dead around her as well, limbs torn from their bodies and the bodies themselves pummeled, some resembling smashed fruit.

Jesse turned her head to the other side. Near her stood the soldier in power armor. It was the first time that she had really gotten a look at the woman; her red hair was shoulder length, sodden to her neck and hanging loosely in the front from the weight of the rain. Over her right eye lay a faded scar. The eyes themselves deep brown and glowing in the firelight, were wide with concern.

She then spoke to Jesse. “Soldier, get away from that thing, you’re gonna…”

The words faded quickly in the wind. Noise of rain became that of a waterfall, and the world went black.

[Page Break]

Silent, the world returned in blurry patches. A few times Jesse swore she woke up surrounded by demanding voices and figures, and another moment she’d heard the voice from the radio again while her hands were handled by one of the soldiers. Now, she awoke in a sunlit room, a warm shape at her side. As she sifted and stretched, the patchy cushion underneath her crinkled, and the sting of her skin sharpened. When a soft purr was felt at her side, she opened her eyes to see Winslow curled up next to her in the bliss of sleep

“Thank god you’re here…” She muttered, petting the feline’s exposed stomach. Dried mud caked to the tips of his fur, but it was still soft to the touch. He murred softly in his sleep at her hand.

The events of the night came flowing back to her as she began to sit up, disturbing the cat at her side. She remembered the rage, the hoard, the glowing one that had perished in under her hands-

Jesse remembered the liquid that had burned her fists. She looked down to find that her hands had been wrapped in bandages, carefully twisting around her open hand and each finger. They felt stiff, but it was better than an exposed burn. She flexed her fingers for a moment before looking down at her clothes. The leather coat she’d been wearing had been replaced with a musty t-shirt and slacks. It was cleaner than what she had before.

Whoever these soldiers were, they definitely weren’t stingy. Although Jesse wasn’t quick to completely trust. She was thankful to find her pipboy still wrapped around her right arm.

 _Hell, I’m lucky I’m alive._ Jesse scratched her head through tangled chestnut locks. _I don’t know what the hell got into me, but at least it got me in with the military. Or Whoever these people are._

Looking around the room, Jesse found she was alone. Several other matresses laid on the dusted and sunlit floor, though ammunition and small baubles- belongings -were stacked at the windowsill and casted shadows in the morning sunlight.

She nearly collapsed as she stood. Her entire body aching from the thin mattress and last night’s battle. Winslow stood with her, squinting in dreariness but ears perked up in interest.

Jesse started for the door. Littered with holes and chips but still intact, it opened with a loud creak. She limped slightly as she stepped out into the main office of the Cambridge Police Station.

The main office wasn’t exactly bustling with activity, but it was not vacant either. Many tables and chairs were scattered around the office, some standing up with stacks of paper or ammunition on them and others turned over and shoved into corners. Some of them looked out of place, and Jesse supposed they were taken from other buildings for firewood or to be part of the barricade. Against the wall to her left, another soldier sat up on a mat. His shoulder was exposed, being carefully treated by a woman in white.

As he gave her a short glare from the side, Jesse realized that this was the soldier at her side from last night. The one who had been bitten. She gave a small gesture to him, but only scoffed and looked away.

Winslow scampered into the room ahead of her, running his body over her ankles as he did. His ears perked, he chirped as he ran for those gathered in the center of the room, weaving underneath desks and hopping onto the counter to greet his apparent friends.

At the main desk, Three of them stood. One Jesse immediately recognised as the Paladin, still wearing her power armor. The other’s faces were unrecognised. As she approached them, They looked up at her, and the hair on her neck rose rigid. Any courage from the night had since dispersed.

“Well well,” the Paladin grinned. “Looks like my guardian angel is awake. Sleep well?”

Jesse blinked in awe. She took a few shy steps forward, her fingers nervously twitching at her side. She’d certainly made her introduction before, but she hadn’t yet considered the verbal portion. “Uh, yeah.” She stammered. “I just ache.”

“Figures.” The Paladin shrugged. “You got a hell of a workout last night. And a lot of radiation poisoning. What were you thinking, getting so close to a Glowing One without a mask?”

Feeling at her cheek, Jessie realized she’d left her mask back under the highway. By now, there was no guessing that it was stained beyond repair and now likely the home of a radroach. “I, uh, lost mine.” Jesse held her arm in nervousness, staring at the floor.

“You’re pretty shy for a girl who stabbed a deadly monster to death with little to no hesitation.” The Paladin’s voice was cool and calm. “But hey, you don’t need to be like that. I don’t bite.”

Jesse approached the small group further, carefully stepping into the soft light. The other men crossed their arms and examined her carefully, Jesse being unable to tell if their opinions of her were fair. She looked up to gaze into the Paladin’s eyes. They’d lost the spark of rage and battle and were replaced with a warm look of greeting.

“You gave us a show, but we’re overdue an introduction.” The Paladin held out her hand for Jesse to take. Jesse’s bandaged hands were mere cotton compared to the metal the Paladin’s fingers were encased in. The shake was light, gentle as not to further injure Jesse’s hands. “I’m Petra. Paladin Petra Johnson of the Brotherhood of Steel, Recon Squad Gladius.” She spoke the title with a fulfilling pride. “And you are?”

Jesse immediately returned her gaze to the floor in a fit of embarassment and thoughts. Hundreds of questions swarmed in her mind, but her mouth hesitated to open. She took a quick breath. “My name is Jesse. Jesse Taber. Vault dweller- and, uh -Minuteman, I suppose.” Jesse tried her best not to mumble. “I’m new to the Commonwealth. I’m- I’m looking for my son. He was kidnapped.”

A familiar look of concern returned to Petra’s face. “Kidnapped? That’s.. good god, I’m sorry. That’s terrible.” Her voice was soft. Though, Petra turned to the desk, walking behind it with heavy steps and reaching underneath it. “So, you’re not the only one new to the Commonwealth. My team and I are here on a Recon mission for the Brotherhood- Strange signal readings, that kind of stuff -but I think we could help eachother. Your quick thinking saved my life last night. I owe you for that.”

She heaved a box up from behind the desk, metal and rusted, and set it on the countertop. “It may not look like it, but the Brotherhood has an extensive arsenal at their disposal, as well as investigators, documents, other officials-” She broke open the lock to the box. Inside was a stack of documents, edges of the paper stained with age and corners curling, as well as yellow capsules of ammunition. On top of that was one of the green-cased rifles that Jesse had seen the group using. A lazer rifle.

Petra’s voice grew powerful and proud, taking on a persona that Jesse assumed was how she’d ended up with her rank in the first place. She straightened herself when she spoke. “For saving my life, and perhaps the rest of Squad Gladius, the Brotherhood would be honored to help you on your search if the need arises.” She picked up the rifle, carefully holding it out to Jesse with both hands. “You should have this. It’s a configured lazer rifle- if you’re caught in a tight spot, it’s reliable.”

The weight of the rifle fell into her hands, Jesse lifting it back up into her arms with a grunt. Petra smiled at her effort. “Well I’ve- thank you, but I’ve actually never used one of these before…”

“That’s no problem.” Petra had returned to her lighthearted composure. “You’re already pretty good with your aim, for a dweller.” As Petra started for the door, she patted Jesse’s back with a heavy hand, urging her to follow. “A rifle shouldn’t be an issue- come on, we have targets in the courtyard. I can show you.”

Petra padding her on the back, she was urged out the door, listening to the continued eager ramblings of apparent Brotherhood affairs. Questions still swarmed in her head, but she remained quiet, awestruck by the Paladin in armor.


	2. Freedom of the Press

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesse, now accompanied by a hot-headed paladin determined to protect her, reaches the gate to Beacon City. New allies are met, providing answers, but even more questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very dialogue-heavy chapter that focuses on action far more than thought, something that may change in later chapters depending on the scenes. Hopefully, the dialogue isn't too direct from the scene, even if it's dangerously close.

Between the constant clunking stomps of Petra’s power armor, Winslow’s hooked tail bobbing up and down ahead of them, and the drone of the Pip-Boy’s radio, peace and strangely familiar comfort began to seep in once more. 

The fire fight moments ago had left Jesse shivering. Her first time facing supermutants, the enormous green monstrosities had been a new kind of terror to the sole survivor, even though it was apparently old hat for Petra. They were extinguished quickly under the fire of her laser rifle and with the help of Jesse’s cheaply-forged bullets. Cells for her recently gifted laser rifle had run dry.

After the fight, several guards had approached, thanking them for their work and directing the two towards Beacon City, two blocks away. The great green jewel, so many people had called it. 

Shotty direction signs painted sloppily in dripping white-brown said otherwise, but the working lights and surplus of guards was reassuring enough to keep Jesse’s hopes high.

“Hm, decent defenses.” Petra mumbled as they passed a rumbling turret. She’d been surveying their surroundings since their arrival into the Boston ruins. 

“Do you think you’re gonna have enough to report back to your team?” Jesse asked, staring at the same turret before moving her gaze to Petra herself. “You haven’t really seemed impressed with any of this.” 

Her reply was quick and dry. “You haven’t, either.” 

It was true. Their trip was mostly quiet, aside from clanking and mumbling with the occasional firefight. Jesse kept her eyes on her own feet or the path ahead of them. 

There was nothing to say about her world, ripped apart and put back together. At least, nothing Jesse wanted to say out loud. What she remembered, however...

“Well, You should have seen it before the bombs hit. This whole city, It was always so bright and alive and- and full of color.” Jesse spilled her memories mindlessly. “Everything was so clean, too. The weak were cared for, families were together...”

“Slow down, what are you going on about? The bombs fell over two hundred years ago.” Petra had stopped walking, Jesse bumping into her with her mind lost in memories. “Don’t tell me you’re that old. There’s no way.” 

Jesse twisted at the ring on her finger. It turns out there were complications to her confession. ¨I- I think I am. Two hundred and twenty two, actually? Wait, no, two hundred and thirty two. I forgot to add ten…¨ 

As Jesse counted on her fingers, Petra stared in bewilderment, nearly glaring in suspicion, gripping her rifle tighter. “You’re joking. Or under some sort of influence. You haven’t yet been introduced to jet, have you?” 

“No, I haven’t! I swear I’m not. I can prove it-” 

“No, no, I don’t need that yet. Can you tell me how?”

It seemed like more like a command rather than a question. 

With a long sigh, uncurling her balled fists, Jesse gave in. She rushedly told the full story of the vault, the woman with the scar, leading Gabriel Fennoy back to Sanctuary, and her departure to Beacon City that resulted in their meeting in the first place. The whole time, Petra listened idly, deep brown eyes full of thought. 

“So- so that’s how it happened, and if you need proof, I have the vault suit right in here.” Jesse gestured to her pack, nearly reaching for the flap before Petra stopped her. 

“No, you don’t have to yet. I believe you. A story like that doesn’t just get made up, and it explains a lot about.. Well, you. And why you were in Cambridge when you were.” She hung her rifle on her side to cross her arms. “And if you weren't there when you were, I might have been ghoul chow.”

Jesse rubbed the back of her neck, blushing slightly. “Gabriel said my timing was impeccable. I guess he was right. Oh, and- and if you weren’t escorting me right now, I probably would have been pummeled by those big green guys back there.” 

“Supermutants.” Petra corrected her, smiling. “And your corpse would have been eaten after the pummeling. They like their meat pretty rare.” 

They both grinned, Jesse holding her hand to her mouth as she laughed. “Y’know, for someone trying to keep up a military persona, you’re pretty funny.” 

“I mean, the rest of the squad aren't around, are they?”

Jesse shrugged. “I guess so.” Her eyes trailed the ground, the rest of her tensed when catching the length of their shadows. “Oh, shoot, we better get going. All the shops are gonna be closed if we don’t get there before nightfall.” 

Petra made a grunt that Jesse took for agreement, already lumbering forwards again towards the guard walls of the city. They passed traders and settlers, the strangers commenting on the paladin’s apparel and Jesse ogling at their twin-headed pack brahmin, stacked high with mattresses and trunks. 

Petra ducked under the entrance of a gaudy wooden wall, Jesse following behind her as they emerged onto an open square. The concrete remained surprisingly whole after centuries of wear and tear, each respective slab looking as if it had before the war to the naked eye, but the blinding lights of the stadium’s green wall highlighted cracks and shadows that would have been less visible in the full light of day. In the center of the lot, A copper statue of a baseball player, green with age, stood with his bat ready to swing. 

Jesse’d been by the statue before, shuffling through crowds with Gil to see the Red Sox's latest game. Now, the statue stood alone, and Jesse’s companion paid little mind to it apart from another short hum.

A whine from the gate realigned Jesse's concerns. “What do you _mean_ you can’t open the gate? Please stop playing around like this, Otis! I’m standing out in the open here, for crying out loud!”

Petra glanced at her, nodding towards the culprit. It was another woman, Dressed in a faded red coat, and reporter’s hat pulled tight over wild brown curls. They watched her argue at what seemed to be nothing. An uneasy look rested in Petra’s eyes. 

An intercom by the gate buzzed to life. “I- my order’s not to let you in, Miss Olivia.” He stuttered, voice uncertain and nervous through a grainy transmission. “I’m sorry. I’m just doing my job.”

Olivia, in turn, was _livid_. “‘Just doing your job’?! So protecting Beacon City means keeping its people out, huh? People like me, is that it? ‘Oh, look, it’s the scary reporter!’” She gestured wildly to the intercom, forming her fingers into fake claws as she leaned forward. “Boo!” 

A smile crept onto Jesse’s face. _I like you already_.

“I’m sorry, but they mayor’s really pissed, Olivia. Sayin’ that the article you wrote was all slander and lies and- and all that.” Otis sighed. “The whole city’s buzzed about it.” 

Her hands raised, Olivia growled, a finger pointed stiffly at the intercom as a parent would gesture to a troublesome child. “You open this door _right now_ , Otis Parker! I _live_ here! You can’t just- You can’t just lock me out!”

With no response from the radio, she began to cool, a heavy sigh escaping her chest as her arms lowered. She tiredly groaned, “Just open the gate, _plea_ \- huh?”

Winslow, weaving between Olivia’s spectators, suddenly rubbed up against the girl’s boots. She stared down at him, subtly surprised and amused, but her eyes trailed to the cat’s owner, and widening for a split second at the sight of her escort. 

“Oh- Winslow, c’mere buddy, we don’t play with strangers.” Jesse bent down, offering a petting hand out to attract the feline. He didn’t move, though. Just stared with his tail held high. 

Olivia, however, continued to smile delightedly at the cat’s presence. There was a sudden spark of mischief in her eyes. “You two, is he with you guys?” She spoke in an undertone, gesturing to the wall behind her. “You want into Beacon City, right?”

“Uh, yeah.” Jesse spoke meeky. “We’re coming in from Cambridge.” 

“And Winslow’s with you guys, isn’t he?” She repeated the question, resting her arms at her sides, a smirk on her face. 

“Yes, he is. I found him down by Concord, he’s been following me everywhere. Every other waselander seems to know him, too.”

Olivia leaned back, raising her voice loud enough for the man on the intercom to hear. “You hear that, Otis? We’ve got some travelers bringing Winslow home!” She put a finger to her lips, still grinning. “What’s that? _And_ a lead on the Cassie Rose situation?” 

Jesse and Petra glanced at each other. Petra shrugged, large shoulders rolling in her power armor. 

Oliva pegged on. “So are you gonna let us in, or are you really gonna keep our city deprived of everyone’s favorite feline and another step to finding our detective?” 

“ _Augh_ , Alright, fine! Just gimme a minute.” 

Suddenly, the wall rumbled and began to rise upward. The metal swung like a cat’s door as it rose, groaning from centuries of use, Jesse gawked as the entrance to the stadium revealed itself. The gate stopped with a sharp _clang_ as it hung suspended above the stadium’s cavernous entryway. 

“C’mon, we should head inside before Otis changes his mind. Or if Mayor Hodgman does it for him. Walk and talk, let’s go.” She nodded at them, already strutting under the gate. After nodding to each other in confirmation, the two of them followed.

“I’ve never seen you guys around, so I’m guessing it's your first time here? You don’t look like the usual riff-raff.” 

“Yeah, I’ve never been. I’m… looking for someone, and everyone I’ve met told me to come here for help.” Hesitantly, she offered her bandaged hand. “My name’s Jesse. Jesse Taber.”

Olivia stopped and turned to shake it carefully in gloved fingers. “Well, good to meet you! Olivia Plimpton, Beacon City’s reporter, and owner of Beacon Post. Your reason coming here’s pretty common, actually. It’s not hard to track someone down with the usual buzz this place gives off.” She nodded towards Petra. “What about you, Tank?”

“Paladin Petra Johnson, Brotherhood of steel.” She answered quickly, Straightening her arm in a quick salute over her chest and offering her own metal-encased hand to the reporter. She shook hard, lurching Olivia’s arm in a way that almost looked painful. Despite it, she greeted the reporter with a welcoming smile. “My team was sent here on a recon mission. I’m gathering intel on the immediate area, as well as escorting my frie- initiate, here.” 

“Ooh, Brotherhood, huh?” She rubbed at her shoulder “Jess must be pretty special to have her own personal metal-clad bodyguard.” 

“Don’t underestimate her, I’ll tell you that.”

The entrance to the stadium had an air of familiarity. It remained mostly undamaged through the years, apart from cracked concrete pillars and litter scattered and brushed into the room’s corners. The biggest differences Jesse could note was a new lack in color, old paint chipping and faded. The space was cast in an orange glow, fires nested in barrels licking at the air as they consumed junk and scrap tire rubber. The scent was acrid and thick. 

“So, This ‘Beacon City’- What can you tell us about it?” Petra surveyed as they walked. “All the new initiate and I have heard is that it’s the greatest place in the Commonwealth, or that it’s a dump.” 

“It’s all and none, give or take, but she’s a sight.” Oliva chimed, voice silvery. “Everyone who’s anyone in the Commonweath is from here, settled here, or-” She leaned in, mumbling, “Or got kicked out of here, but home’s home. The city’s only the worshipped the way it is for the walls and working lights, not to mention the steady resources and businesses that settled here over the last few decades. You guys seem like the type that stick to it, but I guess you’ll see soon enou-” 

“Plimpton! Otis, I told you to keep the damn gate shut!”

In front of the main tunnel to the stadium, blocking their path, stood a figure stiff and shrewd. He was a bulky man, fixed in a faded tan suit and tie with curly red hair and a neater beard. He glared at Olivia, hands clasped behind his back. 

A puffy, prudent man. Jesse had met his type more than she liked to. 

“You- you devious, scheming slanderer! The audacity of you! The _dishonesty!_ ” the man blustered, pointing at Olivia between the eyes. “One more strike like that and you’re forbidden from entering this city again! And that’s not even the beginning of it, I should- I should have that printer of yours sent to Saugus!” 

Olivia crossed her arms, glaring. “Is that a threat, Mr. Hodgman? Oh, what do you think about the next headline? ‘Tyrant Mayor Bans Freedom of Speech’? What happened to all of those democratic values you keep blundering on about?” 

“Democratic values don’t include accusing your mayor of being a synth!” 

“Woah, hey, hey!” Jesse broke in, hopping between them wearing the realest smile she can manage. “Right, okay, freedom of the press is a good thing, but can we please not maul each other over it? There’s enough carnage out here as is.” 

The man looked startled, lowering his arms. The switch had been flipped, the alleged mayor hastily returning to a jolly, ‘presentable’ persona that the newcomers hadn’t yet seen. “Oh, no, no, I didn’t mean to bring you two... lovely, ladies into this argument,” His voice wavered as he glanced at petra. “yes, both of you look like perfect Beacon City material! And I must thank you for returning one of our smaller residents. Welcome back, Winslow.” 

Winslow gave a purring meow at his greeting before quickly returning his focus to leaving as much scent on Olivia’s boots as possible. 

The mayor spread out his arms, gesturing to the tunnel behind them. “Welcome to the great green jewel of our scorched land! A fine place to come, settle down, perhaps spend some caps?”

As he grinned, Petra’s brow creased further. 

“...Don’t let this _ruffian_ tell you otherwise, alright? I hope you can enjoy your stay.” 

The paladin shifted in her armor, adjusting the grip on her laser rifle. She cleared her throat before speaking, “What were you two arguing about? You said something about synths, correct? What do you know about them?”

“Well, Looks like you’ve come to the right place, Tank. The whole city’s asking themselves the same questions- What synths are, where they come from, anything like that -and I’ve been doing my best to give them the answers they _deserve_ , Hodgman.”

“Enough of that, _Plimpton_ ,” He sneered her name, adjusting the stained tie of his suit. “We’ll discuss it later. Right now, we should be concerned with the affairs of our guests. So what about you? What brings you to this fine, protected city of ours?” 

The echoing _putputput_ of gunfire, fully automatic, could be echoed in the distance of the evening. Behind them, The wall glided down, swaying and producing another massive _CLANG_ as it blocked off Beacon City from the hostility of the outside once more.

“Recon Mission. Brotherhood of Steel.” Petra answered coldly before Jesse could open up with her own reasonings. They figured, Miss Paladin.

Jesse quickly followed with her own explanation. “I’m looking for… um, a missing person. And maybe someone who can help me find them.” 

“Woah, wait, hold up, missing person? Like, say, suspected kidnapping?” 

Jesse shook her head. “No, Just kidnapping. I know he was taken.” 

“Hear that, Hodgman? What’s security going to do to help this one? You and I both know it’s not the first case. First, Finnegan’s brother, then Myra from the caravans, then god knows how many reports outside the city, now _her_ friend!.” 

Jesse chimed in again, flinching as the city-dweller’s argument began to resume. “Oh, no, It’s my… uh, kid.” 

“A _child!_ So what’s the great mayor of Beacon City gonna do, huh?”

“Young lady, I am THIS close!” He aggressively gestured, holding his fingers in a pinch before taking a deep breath to relax, blinking slowly and lowering his arms. “Hmph. Security has been… Occupied, as of recent, but I’m sure you can find someone to help you out of your conundrum. The city’s full of wonderful people, after all.” 

Jesse perked up at his suggestion. “Who can help me? C’mon, you’re the mayor, you’ve gotta know somebody.” 

“Ah, nope, sorry- No more time for questions. I’m a very busy man, after all.” he turned in a single striding step, thumbs in his pockets. “Good luck, though! Enjoy your stay!” 

“Seriously?! Security can’t spare _one_ man to help? Something’s going on here, Hodgeman, and I’m- I’m going to find out!” Olivia shouted after him. 

The mayor turned back in a glance, an unruly grin on his face. “Ah, then, one more thing. You and your little brother? Consider yourselves officially on watch.” 

With that, he strolled into the tunnel, leaving the three of them standing in the entryway, gawking and silent. 

Glancing at Petra’s expression, it was obvious the paladin had made up her mind on the man. Her face pulled into a grimace, her eyes cold like shattered stones on the boston shores.

“Well, so much for first impressions. That’s mayor Soren Hodgeman for you.” Olivia mumbled, picking at the loose end of her gloves. She dropped her arms at her sides. “Anyway, I need to get settled in, and you guys do too. They say the trip to Beacon City is often one of the hardest to take in the commonwealth.” She nodded towards the corridor. “Let’s head in. And after you get settled, meet me in my office. I can fill you in on some details you might be looking for.”

Jesse simply nodded in return, unsure of what to say as Olivia strolled ahead of them into the tunnel and to the city. Winslow eagerly followed the reporter, Tail held high at the woman’s ankles. 

“Seems like that cat is good at leading us to the right people.” Petra stepped closer to Jesse, more beside her than behind. “Come on, let's get in there. We didn’t come out here to wait around, and Winslow probably wants us to meet more of his friends.” 

Petra lumbered forward, Jesse following suit behind her as they entered Beacon City.


	3. A Cat with a Tale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Dynamic Duo, Jesse and Petra, learn the secrets surrounding their feline friend, and discover further complications along the way.

The mattress creaked as her body shifted, rickety metal joints popping like Jesse’s own as she sat up in bed, wiping the sleep from her eyes. 

The room was dim, windows glazed with dust and grime allowing little of the blue-gray morning light to faze into the space. Silhouettes of their belongings were scattered about the floor, bundles of supplies and guns spotted among the clutter. The door of their makeshift bathroom hung open, a sliver of warm light shining on familiar black-grey armor. 

“Petra…?” 

No response. As her eyes adjusted, she could see the the suit standing slouched, vacant of a head with familiar auburn hair. It was empty. 

Chatter of the bar outside roused her further from the fogginess of waking. Jesse stood, slipping into worn fatigues. She briskly washed her face in the bathroom sink before shuffling into the bar, the corners of her vision blurred in forenoon dreariness. 

It was the morning buzz. Mercenaries and other wastelanders packed their bags and bodies with food and drink in preparation of returning to the wastes. Citizens of Beacon City chatted over sloppy omelettes and cups of noodles as they planned the day’s activities. Hanging scents of cooked meat and other wasteland specialties made Jesse go stiff, her stomach keenly reminding her of its lack of attention.

A woman from the upper stands whispered viciously in a long-haired mercenaries ear before storming out. Several leered at her in her departure, including Jesse. 

The city in the stadium hadn’t lived up to its expectations, but it hadn’t yet disappointed either. Jesse and her concierge had emerged into what seemed like a hooverville at first, dozens of rusty shacks creating a maze of metal supposedly titled a city. With a quarter of the area flooded and another quarter used strictly for harvesting mutated food, the “Great Green Jewel” seemed half buried in the ground, cracked where it wasn’t dirtied. 

Yet, despite it all, Jesse had walked down the steps and into the market with a crooked smile. The evening had been crisp and alive, vendors shouting their advertisements into the air calling to citizens who had long developed immunity the messages. The people were standoffish, gawking at the newcomers with leering eyes as they passed before returning to their business elsewhere. Kids playing chase, weaving through metal and over catwalks, Seemed to be happy with their broken home.

The inn was as shanty as the rest of the town, but the bed supplied had been more than enough to drag Jesse into a heavy, unplanned sleep. 

The light of the Dugout Inn had not changed since the evening, a liminal space in a world that so constantly changed. People filed through, lounging in furniture if they had nothing better to do, happily greeted and served by a quiet, yet gaudy bartender. The woman, bulky with pink streaks in her hair, waved as Jesse entered. 

She spotted her paladin amongst the drifters and mercenaries. She sat on one of the couches, a half-emptied bottle in her hand. Though, in the other, her fingers were occupied with picking at the nails. A nervous habit, Jesse assumed. As she approached the circle, stiffly sitting on one of the ripped cushions, she caught wind of the story Petra was telling. 

“...Now, keep in mind, I was just an initiate then. Only thing backing me was some half-assed combat armor a laser pistol- with no cells.” She made the statement matter-of-factly. “So the guy steps up, and his weapon fucked too, so he starts swinging his pocket knife at me like a drunken radstag. So I jumped back, and was pretty much dancing around this guy’s attacks, until I was cornered.” 

A soft gasp ran over her small audience, all tipsy, odd as it was in the early hours. Jesse felt her lips curling up into a grin. 

“And then, bam! Next thing I know, all I could see in my right eye was red. And this guy, this goddamn guy- he laughed at me.” 

“What’d you do after that?”

“I’m getting to it. Then, I was pissed. I mean, I thought I was blind. So I rushed forward and slammed the freak into the ground,” she paused to take a swig of her drink. “And started beating on him. Things got kinda fuzzy at that point, it must’ve been the rush, but I know there was a hell of a lot of blood on his face, and I can’t tell if it was mine or his.” 

Another round of noise fell over them, this time being murmurs and muffled laughs. Jesse disclosed from their morbid humor. “So I just… kept at it. Just kept hitting and swinging until I nearly passed out. And by the time it was over, he was all blood and bruises on the pavement. Oh, and I got myself a new knife.” 

Petra was smug, reaching to a strap on her belt and pulling out a small, folded blade. She flipped it open, running the side over her fingers. “I know, it’s no ‘I killed three supermutants with a ripper’ story, but still, a scar a scar and that’s the story this one comes with.” She gestured to the darkened line that ran just above her eye, cutting into her brow. 

“Better than what you hear from some of the other guys comin’ through here.” the bartender, Clutch, chimed. Her voice was gruff. “I had one guy claim he killed a whole Gunner battalion with a ten millimeter. Your story? It’s believable.” 

“Just add a little hyperbole, and it’s best kept that way.” 

The people in Petra’s circle began to disperse, returning to other occupations. Petra stood up, quickly seeking Jesse and sitting beside her, leaning back and lounging in her new seat. 

“You know, for a while there, I thought you lived in that power armor.” Jesse smiled at her. “The onesie there looks pretty cool, too.” 

“It’s a uniform, and you’re gonna get one once the Prydwen comes rolling in.” There was a sternness to Petra’s voice, but no sting. Jesse caught her smiling back. “I appreciate it, though. I think It’s pretty cozy. Speaking of cozy stuff, did you sleep well?” 

“Yeah, as well as I could, I guess.” 

“You crashed as soon as your armor was off,” Petra picked grime out from under her nails with her blade. “and you still need to get food in your system before we do anything else. You haven’t eaten since we left Cambridge, and I’m pretty sure you’re going to crash and burn if we don’t get something in you soon.” 

Jesse’s fingers dug into the cushion as her insides quickly reminded her of their predicament. Petra certainly wasn’t wrong. 

The only seemingly edible thing that the wasteland had been willing to offer thus far had been ancient, preserved cans of meat and stagnant water. Gabriel insisted on trying cooked meat from the hip of a mongrel and something else she couldn't quite identify, but all the suggestion had managed to do was ruin her appetite. 

Not that she had much of one, witnessing the corpse of her world everywhere she looked. 

Petra stood up, abandoning her drink and walking to the bar, tugging on Jesse’s arm as she moved. “Come on, let’s get you something to eat.” 

\----

Jesse recited recent memory in her mind as she ate; The vault, the minutemen, the brotherhood, the city. 

She’d learned that quiet moments were few in this new world, many words and thoughts scattering like mice at the sound of a gunshot or drowned and muffled with carefully crafted chems. Even now, they were still surrounded by mutters and conversations, though quieter as most of the morning crowd had diffused into the market. 

All of it felt like walking in a dream of some sort. A cruel joke, or a simulation of horror and science fiction. Lasers, monsters, and advanced robots trailed the horizon as far as the eye could see, and it was real. All of it was real. 

When she’d opened her eyes that morning, for a moment, she hadn’t awoken from the american dream. She had turned to see Gil, and was met with cold stone instead. 

But now, she’d remembered, and awoken once more into a perfect nightmare. 

The people around her couldn’t have cared less, though. This was their world. The terrors that roamed it had become accepted reality by their ancestors. A shantytown with a wall was worshipped by those who lived there as the land’s greatest safe haven; a green jewel. A monster, Olivia had called it.

Jesse’s thoughts screeched to a sudden halt. She lost her grip on the chunk of roasted dog meat she’d been gnawing on, the moorsel clattering onto a plate as Jesse sat up wide-eyed. She snatched a napkin from the counter, promptly wiping her hand before resting her chin in it, fingers over her mouth. 

Petra barely flinched, distracted with a fork stuck in an omelette. “What bit you this time?”

“We forgot about _Olivia!_ ” Jesse abandoned her meal, slipping from the bar stool and beelining for their room. “Come on, we need to go to her office, if she’ll even let us now.” 

“Oh, yeah, Yeah. That _might_ be a problem.” Petra rotated in her seat, but hesitated, gesturing back to Clutch. “Oh- To go, please?” The woman nodded, packing their leftovers in a thin metal case as the paladin followed Jesse. 

The girl was already fitting her arms into the sleeves of a leathery trench coat, pulling an even smaller overcoat over it. Hopping into her boots, she grabbed her pack, oblivious to the hiss and click of metal behind her.

“You need your bag?” 

“Yeah,” Jesse swung it around her, turning to face Petra. “The room’s ours, but I don’t like the people here. I don’t want anything else taken from me.” 

Jesse paused, looking her escort up and down; she’d returned to occupying her power armor, fully towering over Jesse once again. She smirked. “And you need your armor?” 

“For the same reasons as your own. Power Armor is worth a lot, you know.” She popped her knuckles within the metal casing, turning for the door before Jesse could. “Not to mention it sends a message. Come on, let’s go.” 

“Wait…” Jesse scanned the room at the doorway “Have you seen Winslow?” 

“Not since we got here. At this point, we have reason to believe he’s got some serious connections out here. Hell, across this whole territory- Gabriel knew him, according to you. Not to mention what Olivia said. The whole city knows him.” Petra turned, returning to the bar where Clutch waited with the remainders of their breakfast. “We’ll see him again. Let’s get going.” 

Petra placed the canister of leftovers in the holding cell of her armor, bringing a smile to jesse’s face as she paused for the vault dweller to catch up. That explained what the divot in the front of the armor was for, at least. 

Together, they left the Dugout Inn, passing drifters and citizens who gawked at Petra’s apparel just as they had the previous night. The market was considerably busier than it had been when Jesse had last seen it, but not enough where they would have to force themselves through crowds. Children in ragged clothes played a game of chase across the boarded paths, laughing as they weaved between Jesse and her escort. She smiled at the sight. Roughed up, yes, but still managing to play a game of tag, after everything they were exposed to. 

Petra made a small noise that took Jesse’s attention. Turning her gaze to what Petra was facing, her eyes fell upon the sign; Large, mint and rusted letters on top of a nearby building spelled out _Beacon Post_. The structure rested near the entrance, half of it hollowed out into a garage with a printing press and various parts visible inside, with the other half boasting a rickety door under a tattered red canopy.  
Inside of the open space, a boy stood on a soapbox, waving papers in his hand and advertising to traders passing by. He was dressed sharply compared to the other children they’d seen, but appeared just as lighthearted. He shouted tales of machines dwelling in the darkness, and something else about an institution. Jesse never caught the rest. 

Petra rolled a shoulder, glancing at the door and then back at Jesse. “Do you take it she’s still accepting visitors?”

Jesse shrugged in response. Maybe, maybe not, but they weren’t going to find out standing around. 

The door to Beacon Post opened, hinges screeching quietly as it did. Olivia’s head poked out from the space in the tarnished metal. She called out to the child nearby. “Nix, you got breakfast, right?” 

The Boy, Nix, stopped his advertisements, holding the papers at his side. His voice was high pitched, whiny when he hadn’t meant it to be. “I was gonna get it in a few.” 

“Oh, come here.” She stepped out, gesturing to Nix who had already stepped from his soap box. As he approached, she reached into her pocket, handling several caps. She glanced at the pair waiting on the boardwalks, giving a brief smile before returning her attention to the boy. “Here you go, get yourself something from Takahashi,” She dropped the metal pieces into his hand. “I don’t want you going hungry in the mornings, alright? I should have gotten us breakfast myself…” 

“Don’t worry about it, I’m fine! You worry too much, sis.” He was already beginning to head for the center of the market as he spoke to her, a skip in his step. He spun around as he fled. “Thanks anyway!” 

Olivia rested her hands on her hips, smirking and shaking her head as he disappeared into the market. “That kid’s too good for this city, I swear.” 

Jesse and Petra glanced at eachother, then back to her. 

From between Olivia’s feet, Winslow reappeared, flicking his tail and gazing at them with wide green irises. Jesse gasped lightly, waving her fingers, but he simply turned around and returned to the office. 

Olivia paid little mind to him, however. “And you guys! I get being fashionably late, but this is a little much.” There was edge in her voice, though sweetness underneath. She grabbed the door handle, nodding to the inside. “Get in here!” 

They did as she told them. The doorway was short, and while Jesse entered with ease, Petra ducked and bend in ways that her armor just barely allowed, groaning and creaking in protest of the action. She’d only gotten halfway through before the back of her armor wedged into part of the doorframe.

Olivia raised an eyebrow watching the predicament. 

“Petra, you should just take that-” 

“Its fine” She hissed through grit teeth before bending low enough to budge, finally and hastily ducking inside. The woman practically burst through the door, and glassware rattled at the sudden tremor. 

It was odd, really, going through this much trouble to make some statement or just keep the armor safe, especially with the precautions she took on the daily. Considering it, a thief wouldn't have made it two steps out of the inn if they had tried to steal the hulking set; they would have been heard or seen by the bartenders. Petra was someone rational, she’d proven it before...

So why was she only acting like this now? 

The moment had ended as soon as it began, though. Petra settled herself inside, standing stoic in what little extra space the office allowed for. The room was quaint, yet cozy, candle sconces warming the space and various knick-knacks piled on shelves. Near where Petra stood, small pieces of furniture were fit between shelves coated in spare parts. On the far wall A small ladder led to an upstairs bunk, and another printing press rested in front of an unfinished concrete wall. The one in the garage must have been broken. 

Jesse settled herself on a couch close to the door, the cushion stiff and sunken from years of use. 

“Okay.” Olivia clasped her hands together, voice tense, yet appealing. “Now that you’re finished breaking my door, let’s get down to business. Want a seat, Tank?”

“Er- Negative. I’m comfortable here.” She crossed her arms over her chest, holding one over the other. “And If you’re allowing inquiry, is there a reason you keep calling me ‘Tank’?” 

“Inquiry? It’s what you guys are here for, isn’t it?” Olivia shrugged, looking the woman up and down as she rolled her shoulders. “Why do you think? You’re a pretty big beast in that armor.” 

Petra simply nodded in acknowledgement. 

Seeing that Jesse had already situated herself, Olivia started, taking a breath with her hands clasped together once more. “So, How was your first night in Beacon City? Luxurious, isn't it?” 

“Uh, kinda. It’s a little… Intimidating.” 

“And short.” Petra broke in. “She collapsed as soon as we set up sanctuary at the inn. I did minimal surveying of the area before settling down myself.” 

It was fair; Jesse could barely remember what had happened after her skin met cushion. She guessed Petra must have gotten shopping done, too. The guess was correct. 

“I thought I saw you at Murna’s, right?”

“The scrap shop, correct. The Gunman’s shop was closed.” 

“Yeah, sometimes the place’s got tight hours.” Olivia reached into her pocket for a notepad and pen, testing it on the top of a note before looking up again. “The guy running it has some little ones at home, so I can get it.”

Olivia paused, heaving a heavy sigh. Her arms dropped to her side. “Listen, I’m gonna cut to the chase. “The thing is, everyone out here has their own agendas. Everyone’s here for a reason. Especially you guys, and especially…” 

She stopped again, looking at the couch Jesse rested on. She gestured with a pen. “Him.” 

Jesse looked to her side to discover that Winslow had appeared beside her, curling up quaintly on the couch’s second cushion. He hadn’t made a noise as he jumped up; that, or he was already there. She couldn't remember, but experience with the creature had already told her he was crafty and cunning in a million ways.

Olivia continued. “The thing is, Winslow here isn’t just a drifter. He wonders, but there’s few he associates himself with. He gets around, and I swear half of the Commonwealth’s seen him. There are raider gangs who would pay for his pelt. The kicker here is that it looks like he’s taken to you guys, which means you’re connected with whatever’s next on his to-do list.” She leaned back against the wall, crossing her arms as Petra did. “I don’t know what you guys have heard, but that’s kinda a big deal.” 

Petra raised an eyebrow. “So you’re saying the town stray chooses who he likes. What does that mean for us?” 

“It means a lot for you. Listen, I’ll hurry this up, you’re looking for someone who can help you, right? Say, how about a detective?” 

“Oh- Yeah! That’s It!” Jesse’s eyes lit up, and she beamed. “I didn’t even think a private detective was a thing anymore!”

Olivia responded quickly and flatly. “They aren’t. Who I’m talking about is the last of her kind, and Winslow is your ticket right to her. He may wander around, but there’s been a reason for it. He’s got an owner, and it’s because she has to do the same in her line of work.” 

Olivia strided to the bulletin board hanging behind Jessie, reaching over Winslow and plucking a thumb tack from the corner of a lopsided flyer. She held it with two hands, reading off a name in acute seriousness. “Cassie Rose, also known as the Ghost of Beacon City, and the only detective you’re going to find in what has be more than a 100-mile radius. At least, one that actually knows what they’re doing.” 

Jesse gasped, jumping up excitedly. “Why didn’t you tell us before? Come on, let’s meet her!” 

“Woah, hey, not so fast.” Olivia raised her hand to stop her. “I hate to rain on your parade, but it’s because there’s a _bit_ of a problem with that.”

More problems. In the nuclear apocalypse, Jesse hoped that complications would be the least of her worries, that things would be straightforward and simple. A sinking feeling weighed in her chest.  
Olivia turned the page around for the two of them to see, Petra leaning in, Jesse’s eyes widening. 

Across the top of the flyer, two terrible words were written in scrabbled charcoal: 

“MISSING PERSON”


End file.
